A Fractured Life
by Leiaaa
Summary: You know me as the Bitter Harpy, the shrew that goes around making everyone's life miserable; Leah Clearwater, the Girl Who Ruins Everything. But what else do you know? You've read Bella's story, now it's my turn. Breaking Dawn, Leah's POV.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: If I owned the Twilight series, I wouldn't be writing fan fiction. I'd be spending my time rolling naked in _all my money_. Alas, I have no money. 'Nuff said.

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"And the public don't dwell on my transmission  
'Cause it wasn't televised" -The Killers,_ Spaceman_

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Fact: I am not just a bitch, I am _the _bitch.

Really, I am—and in the most literal sense of the word. I'm the girly wolf; a female dog.

According to Jacob Black I'm the Bitter Harpy; the shrew that goes around making everyone's life miserable; Leah Clearwater, the Girl who Ruins Everything. I taunt people for their short-comings and bring up things that are best left alone…

And in my spare time I kick puppies.

Slight exaggerations and sick sense of humor aside? I really am a mean girl—_a bitch_ (the irony isn't lost on me).

Here's the thing—the one thing everyone fails to give me credit for: I wasn't always so mean. Until a few years ago**,** I was a decent person…for the most part. I was kind to people, relatively happy and all about being green (recycling, conserving energy and the like). But then my life started to fall apart, and with it, so did I.

My fall from grace was a gradual process, a slow but steady descent. It wasn't as though I woke up one morning and said, "Hey, enough with this being nice to people and saving the world shit!"

Although my status as resident bitch was pretty much set in stone after one horrific day—the worst day of my life—the day I killed my father.

I'm an enigma; the freak among freaks. Quileute women don't shape-shift. Never have. To this day, no one knows why I joined the pack. So it's no surprise my father's heart couldn't handle the shock he felt when I transformed into a wolf right before his eyes.

His funeral was just two days after he died, at which point Seth and I hadn't figured out how to phase back to our human forms so we didn't even get to mourn our father properly. Instead of standing with our mother at the grave, we watched the burial from afar—Sam with us, also in his wolf form (someone needed to make sure we stayed away from all the fragile humans).

Funny thing: At the time I fully believed I had gone insane or I was having some hideous nightmare—Seth and I weren't wolves and Dad wasn't dead. As far as I was concerned, I was going to wake up…

Never did wake up though.

So yeah, my reality is one giant shit cake that I get to eat everyday for the rest of my unnatural life.

The frosting on said shit cake? Is a tie between two horrible aspects of pack life: 1) I have to share my most intimate thoughts and feelings with a pack of boys who don't understand and/or don't care how I feel. And I have to know what they're thinking and feeling, too. This is not a consolation prize—nothing interesting or important is going on in their heads (though I've discovered it's true: teenage guys really are just about food and sex. Sometimes they fantasize about combining the two—eating while having sex. In my opinion, this is just wrong). Also, through this pack mind thing, I know how much Sam thinks about and loves Emily. And, 2) all the accidental nudity on my part—well, the nudity of everyone in the pack, actually. Though, from what I understand, nudity wasn't a problem before I started phasing. It still wouldn't be a problem if I were a guy. Or if Seth wasn't my brother. Or if we were all blind.

The cherry on top? I am barren. I'm twenty years old and menopausal. I haven't had my monthly since I started phasing. And I'm definitely not pregnant. Even if I were, it would be an immaculate conception, because I haven't been with anyone since Sam and I split up—and that was a very long time ago.

_Too damn long... _

And there is like, zero possibility of putting an end to this dry spell as I have not yet imprinted. Without the all-too-important imprint, I am not at liberty to tell any guy who touches me why I'm burning with a fever of one-hundred-and-friggin-werewolf. So I'm left with the option of supernatural bedfellows—guys from the pack or vampires—and I am not that desperate…_yet_.

The sexual frustration alone is enough to drive a woman mad. Add that—along with everything else I've mentioned—to the very real possibility that I may just die alone and there you have it: the reason I am such a vindictive bitch.

But unless something changes, and I mean soon, I may just lose what little is left of my sanity and go on a killing spree...

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**A/N: A Fractured Life is named after the Air Traffic album that I am currently in love with (and sort of inspired me to write this story).  
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**Yes this is a multi-chapter fic. Yes it is Breaking Dawn from Leah's POV. And Yes, I intend to finish it (it will take longer to update because I'm trying to improve my writing skills. But I've got a _full outline_ and I will to stick to it, I swear).**

**Also, I'd like to thank AlohaBel, HM Grayson, tdfireproof, twilight22lover, and Dubblez L6 for reading through my stuff (this prologue for instance), giving me ideas/ correcting some stuff. Thanks.**

**Oh! And one last thing: let me know if there is anything I missed while editing.  
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	2. Chapter One: Karma Thy Name is Sue

**Part One: Sam's Town**

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_I've got this energy beneath my feet  
like something underground's gonna come up and carry me,  
I've got this sentimental heart that beats  
but I don't really mind and it's starting to get to me  
**- The Killers, Sam's Town**_

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**Chapter One: Karma Thy Name is Sue  
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"...and if you call here again, I'm going to rip off one of your arms, then beat you to death with it!" I barked into the phone before hanging up. All the while, celebrating my sweet intimidation skills.

"Who was that?" Mom asked as she entered the kitchen, a few bags of groceries in her arms. Laughing because she could tell, by my sudden rigid stance, she had surprised me.

Even with my super senses, I can't always hear her approaching. With her ability to move with preternatural stealth, you'd think she belonged to the pack. But that's just my mom, she moves like a ninja--says it comes with the territory. Which is also why, when I was younger, I seldom got away with anything.

I grabbed the bags out of her arms and started to put the groceries away. "What? No, 'Hello Leah'?"

Mom rolled her eyes. "Hello Leah." she said in order to placate me before returning to the original question, "Who were you just yelling at?"

It was Bella Swan. Calling to ask about Jacob. Again. But I wasn't about to tell my mom that. She'd make me call Bella back to apologize for being so rude. And that, was not going to happen. Ever.

Bella Swan can kiss my furry ass.

"Hey Mom." I said casually, "It was another stupid telemarketer. They keep calling."

"I thought we were on the National 'Do Not Call' Registry."

"Obviously not. Maybe we should change our number." Not that it would matter if we did. Seth would just give the new number to Bella the second it changed. He's such a dork. "So are there more groceries in the car?"

"Yeah, don't worry about it though, Seth can get the rest," She glanced over to the T.V. room and saw he wasn't in his usual place playing video games, "Where is he anyway?"

"Sam needed someone to take his place during patrols today, so Seth took his place." The little spaz was chomping at the bit to get out there and 'do some good,'--whatever that means.

I started to walk toward the garage door, to retrieve the rest of the groceries from the car, when my mom stopped me with another question, "Is Sam okay?"

My stomach twisted in knots, like it always does when Sam's being discussed. Why I mentioned Sam in the first place is beyond me. I hate hearing his name. I hate talking about him--though, in Mom's defense, she doesn't really know that. Not really. She's sort of under the impression I got over him because I told her as much. And Seth is under threat of death if he reveals anything to the contrary.

It's just I don't want my mom to know I'm still pining over someone I can never have, especially now with everything we're trying to adjust to.

Not that Mom's fragile or anything, because she's not--she's tough as nails and more then a little scary to boot. She can take anything life throws at her--heaven knows, she was strong enough for all of us when dad died--and she thinks her offspring should have the ability to do the same. Especially when it comes to her daughter, because, according to her, 'Clearwater women are strong'.

The thing is, I didn't take it well when Sam dumped me--I practically locked myself in my room for a week and sobbed uncontrollably. I also refused to speak, bathe and hardly ever ate. After seven days, my mom, who'd had enough of my 'irrational behavior', forced me to bathe while standing outside the bathroom door, lecturing me.

My mom's a real sweet lady.

While I agree that it was right of her to make me bathe--because, seriously, I smelled horrible--I didn't appreciate being yelled at right after having my heart broken by the only man I ever loved.

It's not like Sam was just some random guy that I had a crush on. We grew up together. We were in a serious relationship for three years! We planned on getting married after Sam graduated from college--practically had our whole lives planned out. Hell, we even had baby names picked out, ridiculous as that sounds.

My point is: Because our history, I don't think I'll ever be able to get over him.

Which is proof, I'm not like my mom--I'm not strong. I pretend to have this tough exterior, that I'm thick-skinned, but I'm not. I can't roll with the punches--not after all the crap that's been thrown my way: I'm a freak-of-nature, my ex--whom I'm still in love with--is marrying my cousin, and I think I killed my dad. Not to mention, I miss my privacy, I miss Sam, and I really miss Dad. I'm barely able to make it through each day without wanting to curl up and die.

I'm not okay. But I'm pretending to be in order to keep my mom off my back.

"Sam's fine." I answered my mom's question as nonchalantly as possible.

"Is Emily okay?"

"Emily's fine, too." I said in my I'm Not Jealous tone, then switched to my, I'm So Happy For Them tone, "Emily's meeting with the florist today and it was really important to Emily that Sam be there."

Not that the old Sam would have given a damn' about what kind of flowers were at his wedding. Hell, I don't think he cares now--and that's the way it should be. Guys don't care about that kind of crap--I should know, I'm in their heads all the live-long day.

"Sounds like fun. And what colors are they going with again?"

"Silver and Wine, I think." Colors I pointed out to Emily a few years back. Not that I was planning a wedding then, I just told her I thought they looked really good together and now she's using them as her wedding colors. Though, the color I liked was more of a gray then a true silver, so they're not the exact same colors.

But still.

"What a pretty combination. What color is your dress going to be?"

Not white, that's for sure. "Um...I think it's going to be that red wine color with a silver sash around the waist, but, Emily hasn't really decided yet."

"Hmm, sounds pretty," Mom said absentmindedly as she shuffled through the mail.

I forced a smile, "Yeah. Pretty. So I'm going to get the rest of the groceries." I turned to leave.

"Oh, Leah, I almost forgot. While I was at the grocery store I ran into Sam's mom. She says 'Hi', by-the-way."

I stopped in my tracks. I really miss Sam's mom. "How's Naomi doing?"

"She seems to be doing great. In fact, she's really getting excited about the wedding, finally. Took her a while, didn't it?"

My heart sank. Sam's mom was as upset as I was when Sam dumped me--she used to call me the daughter-she-never-had-but-always-wanted. She used to threaten to disown him and adopt me if we didn't get married. And she just about did disown him when he asked Emily to marry him. But then, Sam was given permission from the Elders to tell Naomi--to show her--what he'd become. He also told her about imprinting and how he was forever bound to Emily and not me.

She became a lot more accepting of Emily after that. And I've been avoiding her ever since.

I smiled weakly, which, at the time, was a herculean task, "Yeah, took her a while. Naomi has always been stubborn."

Mom rolled her eyes and sighed, "I know. Anyway, she mentioned that, in a few days, she's going to Seattle with Emily, Emily's mom, and the _bridesmaids_," She paused to give me a loaded glance, "Said Emily couldn't decide between three dresses and wanted your opinions." She arched her eyebrow questioningly--obviously the day trip to Seattle was news to her and she wanted to know why I hadn't told her about it.

To be honest, I'd completely forgotten, or rather, blocked it out. I mean, they're all going to Seattle to pick _The Dress_. I don't want to help her select the dress she'll be wearing when she marries Sam. There's no way. I'd sooner eat shards of broken glass.

"Oh, that," I waved my hand as if it were no big deal. "Yeah, I don't think I'm going." Mom's other eyebrow shot up and she started to scrutinize me, so I continued, "I mean, Sam's keeping us really busy because of all the extra bloodsuckers coming into town for that Bella girl's wedding. And since Sam's busy planning his own wedding, and Jacob's...uh...missing, there are more patrol shifts to fill. Besides, I'm pretty sure Emily doesn't want Sam to see her in _The Dress_ until the day of the wedding. If I saw it, I might accidentally ruin the surprise for Sam. You know," I pointed to my head, "The whole pack mind thing."

"Well, yeah, but according to Naomi, they've already thought about all that. Emily made sure Sam would cover your shifts and Naomi said there would be a ballot box so you girls could vote for your favorite dress. That way, no one, except Emily, will know which dress is _The Dress_."

Of course they'd already thought about it. How silly of me.

"Oh, kind of them to think of me," I said through barely unclenched teeth, "Well, I guess I'm going to Seattle then."

Mom smiled and patted my shoulder, "You girls will have fun. Apparently you'll be having brunch at Dilettante's."

If I didn't know better, I'd swear my mom was deliberately trying to punish me. Could she really not see that I'm dying inside? Not that I really wanted her to know, but, it's almost as if she's pretending as much as I am.

My stomach stabbies were increasing by the second and I knew if I didn't find a way to put an end to the wedding talk, I was going to chunder all over the place. So I mustered what strength I had left and plastered a huge stepford wife smile on my face, "Dilettante's. Great place. Can't wait. So yeah, I'd better get the rest of the groceries. Don't want the perishables to...uh...parish."

"Thanks Leah."

"Anytime Mom."

I was able to hold back the floodgates until I got outside, where I allowed myself to cry for approximately thirty seconds.

While I was shoving all that raw emotion into a little box--the one I keep locked away, deep inside me--I came to the conclusion that there was no way I'd be able to survive the wedding day without having some sort of panic attack/psychotic episode. I can hardly make it through a few minutes of wedding talk without totally losing it.

What I was thinking, when I accepted Emily's invitation to be her Maid of Honor, is beyond me.

Truth be known, I wasn't thinking at the time because I was drunk--I knew my brief stint as a wannabe alcoholic would come back and bite me on the ass.

And now, in only a matter of days I was going to meet up with Emily to watch her try on _The Dress_.

My goal to not curl up and die, may not come to pass. Damn' it.

And the day started out so well. Guess I shouldn't have threatened to rip off one of Bella's arms and beat her to death with it. Karma's a mean old bitch.

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**A/N: I know, this is a short chapter. It's been a while since I've sat down and worked on any of my stories. And yeah, Leah's not super kick-ass. That comes later. I swear. **

**Oh and earlier tonight Twilight22lover reminded me that it's been a year since I made an account here, so, Happy Anniversary to me.  
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